Archive for the ‘ Journal ’ Category

Grief

Grief consumes me. I sit to write, and the faces of the lost appear as my reflection in the screen. My grandfather, grandmother, all their generation long gone and buried. My mother and the men and women who raised and guided me, none survive. My father-in-law and mother-in-law, their siblings, gone to the grave too soon.

The heroes of my youth, the actors, the musicians, dying one by one, diminished by age to death.

And my youth dead and its memory hazy and fading. Soon, I fear, only the discomforts of old age will remain to treasure. Better that than the void of death.

For all these and more, I grieve, not because I want to, but because they parade across my monitor, within my mirror, and through my memory.

I want to speak with them once more, with all that passion, energy, and ignorance of youth. I need their wisdom at my age. They walked my path. I recall their dignity, their joy. They must have some advice, some explanation, some comfort. But I can’t hear them.

M. Frank Darbe

Doldrums

Doldrums are defined as, “Equatorial regions of the Atlantic Ocean with calms, sudden storms, and unpredictable light winds”—thank you Webster’s. But there is more to that, I think, in human doldrums characterized by inactivity, stagnation, depression. That’s me, a human doldrum, tired of the calms seeking a sudden storm and light and unpredictable anything.

Yes, a little wind of the soul would do me, but I don’t expect it. It is one of those times when the words in my soul run stagnant and sour. Smiles and frowns are few, where the dominant expression is a strait lipped nothing.

M. Frank Darbe

Well, Here I am Again

Back to work, wishing for consistency but recognizing my stepdad’s old saying, “Wish in one hand and shit in the other. See which one gets full first.”

I’d rather start again and again instead of living with shit in my hands.

Edited Shift, Chapter 4, Scene 6.

Informal Journal – Keep Pinging Away

Today, I wrote a first draft of “D’Artagnan Never Slept Here,” a science fiction flash story. Posting in Writer’s World elicited excellent responses that will go to the rewrite. I think it has the germ of a good Flash, but it does need some work. Keeping it under 1000 words will be no easy task.


Rewrote Dystopia Happens. I think of it as Science Fiction, and, its background strongly implies the breakdown of society with youth and an elderly man eking out an existence. I intend to submit it to flashfictiononline.com. That means, tomorrow I have to rewrite “D’Artagnan Never Slept Here.” I want to submit a full slate of stories because I have a better chance of selling one of them.>


Suggested changes to Chapter 2 of Shift were returned. I need to break them open tomorrow. I suspect I will accept them. I trust my editor.


Flash Fiction Resources

An Extremely Helpful, Incredibly Comprehensive Guide to Flash Fiction Submissions

Stories in your pocket: how to write flash fiction

Informal Journal – Submit or Perish

Writersmarket.com – I have been a member forever, though I go through extended periods of time when I ignore its existence. Completing a piece of flash fiction, led me to the decision to submit. You know, when you submit you must have a market. Searching for “Flash Fiction Markets” in Google was not satisfactory. Then, I thought I lost my password, but I found it. Now, I am back. Long story edited for length, I will submit “Annotated Shopping List” to “Copper Nickel.”


Annotated Shopping List – Story is ready to submit, but you can submit up to three Flash Fiction Pieces, so I am considering writing two more. Decisions, Decisions!


The Traffic Stop, a second Flash Fiction, is adapted from the opening scene of a novel sitting on my hard drive. I cut it and stripped out plot items for the longer story. It works as flash fiction, if a bit longer than my previous story. Once edited, it will be the second story in a submission package of three to Copper Nickel.
I can’t help but wonder, where is number three.


Snitch was the last of the three, and they have been submitted. I suspect this is the first of many submissions for these stories, but it is necessary to start, somewhere.

Informal Journal – A Flash Fiction and Critique

Some years back I wrote a poem that did not work. Today, I rewrote as a Flash Fiction Piece titled “Annotated Grocery List.” It is written in pure dialog, as an experiment in creating characters and developing relationships with what people say.  I intend to submit it somewhere. Tomorrow, or later today, since it is after midnight, I will pick up a new copy of Writer’s market.

Informal Journal – When Frustration Strikes

Amid posting, when my WordPress Blog breaks.

What does a writer do? Quit? Scream Fuck It at a cruel world.

I just start again.


Completed a Scene 34 of Scapula (I need a better title). The scene weighs in at 1032 words. Novel now 41,810 words long.